


“ay de mí, llorona, llorona de azul celeste.”

by orphan_account



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: AU: canon with a divergent twist to a scene, F/M, One-Sided Attraction, Romantic Comedy, Why does my old fic never age well????, even if it might not update frequently since i have many other fic ideas in mind, might end up being two-sided but rn it's unrequited for the sake of humor, suggestions are always open btw cause i wanna keep this thing afloating lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-08-20 06:39:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16550831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: What if it had been a different Rivera woman who sung on stage instead? And what if said woman managed to woo Ernesto?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ladies and gentlemen, here's the romcom no one asked for, but was posted anyway because this idea's been plaguing me for a while and i just had to get it out.
> 
> enjoy.

This was _not_ how Victoria wanted to spend her night on Día de Muertos.

 

All she wanted was to spend some time with her father and aunt while visiting her living family members, but instead, the exact opposite happened. Her great-nephew, Miguel, had to go and get himself _cursed_ after stealing a guitar – running off, leaving the entire family searching for him for _hours_ only for Mamá Imelda to find him in a pit with her husband, Héctor. As it turned out, Héctor hadn’t abandoned his family – he actually _died_  while trying to get back to them because of Ernesto de la Cruz, who stole his songs and his guitar.

 

Miguel had insisted that they get Héctor’s photo back as he was family and family came first, so Mamá Imelda agreed to help her husband, and they all got on Pepita’s back and flew to the warehouse, where Ceci was. Héctor explained the situation to the dressmaker, and _thankfully_ she agreed to find a few spare Frida costumes for them. The famous painter also pitched in with the plan, helping them sneak into the large papaya for the performance. During the performance, the family had snuck into a secret backstage corridor and rid themselves of their costumes, before heading out further into the halls to find De la Cruz.

 

By sheer coincidence, he’d happened to be right around the corner. They wasted no time in chasing him down, right after Mamá Imelda had smacked him twice with her shoe while also declaring Héctor as “the love of her life”, to which the vagabundo was very happy to hear.

 

Ernesto had been a coward, calling his guards to assist him, but of course, they were no match for the Rivera family. But De la Cruz, on the other hand, had been a struggle – he’d been engaged in a tug-of-war with Mamá Imelda for a few seconds, before Miguel slammed his body into the mariachi’s while Victoria helped the family matriarch get back up.

 

The shoemaker had passed the photo to her granddaughter, telling her to hold onto it while she went to help the others, but just as Imelda had stepped away, the platform underneath Victoria had begun to rise, lifting the woman up through the ceiling.

 

Now here she was, standing on stage with the spotlight on her, for all to see.

 

Victoria looked to the right of the stage wing and saw Ernesto’s guards hustling onto the stage, scaling the set as they came for her. She clutched the photo tightly in her hand, stepping closer to the microphone as she began to breathe frantically. She felt as though she was an anxious little school girl again, reading in front of her classmates who all had their eyes on her.

 

“Sing!”

 

She looked down to see Miguel in the stage wing left, along with Héctor and Imelda.

 

“ _Sing!_ ” the boy urged his great-aunt.

 

Seeing that the guards were approaching, Victoria closed her eyes and grasped the microphone.

 

Truth be told, singing wasn’t exactly something new to her. When she was a little girl, she would often sing and dance in private, despite the fact that her grandmother had forbade it. She wore socks on her feet and sang softly, quietly enough so that her grandmother would never discover her secret love for music.

 

As a child, she had dreamed of being like Dolores del Río and María Félix – she wanted to act, travel and sing; but of course, it was not meant to be. At age eighteen, when she had spoken of her dream, her grandmother told her to stay instead of leaving. She told her _I already lost my husband. I don’t want to lose another member of mi familia to music, okay?_ So Victoria followed her grandmother’s rules and let that childhood dream of hers die, along with her love of music and dancing.

 

But now, she knew she had to break the rules and follow Miguel’s instructions instead, for her grandfather’s afterlife was at stake. And so, she began singing.

 

_“Ay de mí, Llorona,_

_Llorona de azul celeste…”_

 

Héctor and Imelda gaped as they heard their granddaughter’s voice. It was soft, yet strong.

 

“I thought you banned music,” Héctor whispered to his wife.

 

“I did,” she whispered back, shaking her head in shock. “How—?”

 

She was cut off as Miguel placed a guitar into Héctor’s hands. The boy then adjusted a mic stand in front of him. The vagabundo played the guitar, its sound amplifying through the stage speakers.

 

_“Ay de mí, Llorona,_

_Llorona de azul celeste…”_

 

Ernesto’s eyes widened as he heard the woman sing. Her voice was gorgeous, elegant, spirited. It was unlike any other woman’s voice he’d heard. Not to mention, the singer was not bad when it came to looks, either.

 

The mariachi looked to the guards, gesturing for them to stop their pursuit, but they would not as they just kept on trying to reach the edge of the woman’s spotlight.

 

“ _Idiotas_ ,” the mariachi grumbled, rolling his eyes in frustration. He made a mental note to himself to get better security from then on.

 

Victoria detached the microphone from its stand as she saw the guards continuing to approach her, taking the spotlight with her as she descended the onstage staircase. As she came down, she made eye contact with her grandparents in the wing. Her grandfather smiled as he accompanied her with his guitar, while her grandmother had a supportive smile on her face. Her eyes glinted, touched to have her family’s support.

 

_“Y aunque la vida me cueste, Llorona,_

_No dejaré de quererte._

_No dejaré de quererte!”_

 

As Héctor accompanied his granddaughter, the young woman became more confident with her singing. The audience began to clap, thrilled by the performance.

 

Ernesto smiled fondly as he watched the woman move towards the stage. The way she moved – it was as though she was an angel, sent from the heavens above. With each second that passed, he fell deeper in love with her, his dear angel.

 

Soon, the stage conductor joined in with more instrumentation, which kicked into high gear.

 

_“Me subí al pino más alto, Llorona,_

_A ver si te divisaba.”_

 

As Victoria came onto the stage, she twirled and danced gracefully. She took the spotlight with her as she moved to put distance between her and the guards.

 

_“Como el pino era tierno, Llorona,_

_Al verme llorar, lloraba.”_

 

She continued to vamp, trying to navigate away from the guards, towards her grandparents – to her grandfather, whose photo she held onto as though it were a life line. A guard blocked her way and tried to grab her, but she tripped him over.

 

_“Ay, de mí, Llorona, Llorona,_

_Llorona de azul celeste.”_

 

She headed towards the left stage wing, towards her grandparents and great-nephew, only to be stopped as a hand grabbed her wrist suddenly, while a voice joined her in harmony. The spotlight widened to reveal that it was Ernesto singing as well, causing the crowd to go wild.

 

However, the mariachi paid no attention to the applause as his eyes were focused on the angel in front of him. The words he sung rang true in a way – he didn’t care how much it cost, for he loved her and wouldn’t stop, and hopefully after this performance, she would feel the same way about him.

 

Meanwhile, Héctor’s strumming got more aggressive as his eyes narrowed. He wanted to get up on the stage and beat that mariachi senseless for putting his _filthy_ hands on his granddaughter, but he knew he couldn’t.

 

Imelda was livid, her teeth clenched in rage as there was a burning fury in her eyes. How dare he touch her granddaughter, after all that he had done to her husband and grandson? After all he had done to _her family?_ If it were not for the fact that Miguel was holding her hands, she would’ve torn off her boot and dusted that _pendejo_ with it herself.

 

_“Ay de mí, Llorona, Llorona_

_Llorona de azul celeste…”_

Ernesto pulled Victoria into a dip as he tried to serenade her. He no longer cared about getting the photo, for he wanted something else now: her heart.

 

Victoria wormed her way out of his grasp, trying to move off stage, only for him to grab her and lift her up into the air while the audience clapped along to the song.

 

_“Y aunque la vida me cueste, Llorona,_

_No dejaré de quererte.”_

The security guards watched in awe from afar as their boss twirled while he held Victoria high up in the air, singing lovingly to her.

 

Victoria, on the other hand, was kicking her legs and flailing her arms. “Let go of me!” she hissed.

 

When Ernesto did put her back down, she tried heading off stage once more, only for him to sling his arm around her chest and twirl her around again. He found it cute, how she seemed surprised as he twirled her around. He felt like the luckiest man in the entire world to have found a jewel like her, to be holding her in his arms while singing.

 

_“Y aunque la vida me cueste, Llorona,_

_No dejaré de quererte.”_

He spun her around, dancing with her around the stage while pouring his heart and soul into the song. He was sure that by the end of this performance, she would be left awestruck, completely head over heels for him as he was for her.

 

_“No dejaré de quererte.”_

After spinning Victoria around one last time, Ernesto grabbed the photo, throwing it behind him as it was useless to him now. Then, he grabbed both of her hands as he wrapped an arm around her.

 

Her eyes widened as she looked behind her, seeing the photo fall to the ground. She had to think of something, and _fast_ in order to get it back.

 

_“No dejaré de quererte!_

_Ay, ay, ay!”_

Then, an idea struck Victoria’s head. Just as Ernesto hit a high note at the song’s finale, she stomped her huarache’s heel onto his foot, causing him to let her go.

 

He hopped on one foot as he clutched the other in pain. At the corner of his eye, he saw her run off the stage with the photo. However, he wasn’t angered by her actions – on the contrary, he was rather _excited_ , for he loved a challenge. Besides, surely it wouldn’t be _that_ big of a task trying to woo her. While she was a Rivera woman, he was _Ernesto de la Cruz,_ one of Mexico’s greatest musicians.

 

Just how could she resist him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ernesto is the mexican pepé le pew confirmed.
> 
> all jokes aside, i hope this was entertaining enough for you lot.


	2. confusion and flirtation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'd like to thank you guys for your comments. i'm really glad to hear you're enjoying this so far, since this one's gonna sorta be like 50 first dates but without the memory loss.
> 
> anyway, here's chapter 2.

Victoria arrived off stage and was embraced by both of her grandparents, who were laughing in joy.

 

“Oh Victoria, mija, you were _fantastic_ out there!” Imelda exclaimed as she pulled away from the hug. “You remind me a lot of myself, when I was younger.”

 

“It’s true,” Héctor agreed, nodding. “You take a lot after your grandmother.” He looked to his wife, and they both smiled at each other a bit.

 

Victoria smiled slightly. For such a long time, she had seen her grandmother go through so much pain because of her husband’s disappearance, so to see the woman happy again was like a miracle, even if that meant that things would be a little awkward in the house now that her grandfather was back.

 

“Ahem,” Miguel cleared his throat. “Remember the plan?”

 

“Oh, sorry,” Victoria apologized as she gave the photo to her nephew, before she went off to the side and stood next to her father, aunt and uncles.

 

Imelda pulled out her petal as she approached Miguel. “Miguel, I give you my blessing,” she began, as the petal glowed. “To go home…” She gestured to herself and Héctor. “To put up our photos, and to never—”

 

“—never play music again?” Miguel finished for her, looking slightly saddened as he anticipated the condition.

 

“To _never_ … forget how much your family loves you,” Imelda finished with a smile.

 

The petal surged as Miguel’s facial expression brightened, touched.

 

Héctor stepped forward, placing a hand on Imelda’s shoulder. “You’re going home,” he told the boy.

 

Suddenly, before the boy could reach out and touch the petal, a familiar voice cried out: “What a marvelous performance that was, if I do say so myself!”

 

Everyone gasped as they all turned to see Ernesto, who had a big smile on his face as he clasped his hands together. Miguel slowly backed away from the mariachi, while Dante crouched down and growled.

 

Imelda clenched her teeth in rage, putting the marigold petal away as she instinctively wrapped her arms around her grandson. “ _You burro,_ ” she hissed.

 

Ernesto put a hand up. “Calm yourself, Señora.”

 

“Why are you here, Ernesto?” Héctor asked, standing by his grandson’s side as he feared that his ex-friend was there for the boy because of the photo, along with the fact that the twelve year-old knew of his treachery. “If it’s for the boy, then—”

 

“—I’m not here for the boy,” Ernesto interrupted him. “Nor am I here for the photo.” He brushed past his old friend, making his way towards Victoria. “I came here for the _lovely angel._ ”

 

“ _What?_ ” the Riveras all asked in confusion.

 

Ernesto stepped closer towards Victoria, who backed up a little as her eyes widened. “I must say, Señorita, your singing was _espectacular!_ ” the mariachi complimented her. “Your voice is _muy_ _hermosa_ , like a _goddess’._ ”

 

“My voice is – what?” she stammered, bewildered by his compliments.

 

He took one of her hands into his and kissed it. “Perhaps, if you’d like, we could give the audience a bit of an encore.” He winked at her, making a clicking noise with his teeth.

 

Her jaw nearly dropped to the floor at his offer as she realized that he was trying to flirt with her. “ _Excuse me?_ ”

 

“Is he doing what I think he’s doing?” Óscar whispered to Felipe.

 

“I think so,” his brother replied, his voice filled with revulsion.

 

Miguel nearly gagged at the scene in front of him, while Rosita was restraining Julio from pounding Ernesto’s trasero into the ground. Imelda and Héctor were both utterly disgusted and confused at the same time.

 

“So, what do you say, _cariño?_ ” Ernesto asked, moving a little closer until his and Victoria’s faces were only inches away. “Would you care to join me in another duet?”

 

Victoria shook her head, unable to believe that this was happening right now. “Another duet?” she scoffed. “What happened back there was hardly a duet at all!”

 

He chuckled at her comment. “Come on now. We were both singing the same song, weren’t we? I believe it went like this…” He grabbed her arm, and began to kiss it upwards. In between kisses, he hummed, _“Y aunque la vida me cueste, Llorona, no dejaré de quererte…”_

 

“S-señor de la Cruz,” Victoria stuttered, feeling her face heat up as he kissed up her arm. She scolded herself for enjoying it, but she couldn’t help it. The feeling of his hot breath against her bones was just too much for her to ignore. “S-stop… _aah_ …”

 

He continued kissing up her arm, until he reached her shoulders. “If you’d like, angelita,” he whispered near the place where her ear would’ve been, had she not been as dead as he was, “we can head to my dressing room, and maybe play a fun little game…”

 

“Leave her alone, Ernesto!” Héctor yelled as he stepped between the two, protectively standing in front of his granddaughter.

 

“Alright, alright. I can tell when I’m not wanted.” Ernesto put his hands up, rolling his eyes as he stepped back a little. He looked to Victoria and added, “I look forward to dancing with you again soon, _mi angelita._ ”

 

“In your dreams,” she muttered.

 

“Alas, the show must go on,” Ernesto said, walking past the Riveras. He stepped up to the curtain and slicked back his hair, putting on a grin as he emerged to his audience.

 

“Are you okay, mija?” Héctor asked his granddaughter.

 

“Sí, I’ll – I’ll be fine,” Victoria replied, nodding a bit.

 

“Did that really just happen?” Miguel asked, as he and Imelda stepped closer to the two. “Did De la Cruz actually _flirt_ with Tía Victoria?”

 

“Unfortunately, yes, he did,” Imelda answered her grandson’s question, disgust evident in her tone. “That no-good, dirty _burro_ …”

 

“Look, we’ll talk about him later. Let’s just focus on getting our little chamaco home now, okay?” Héctor tried changing the subject, reminding them of the final step of the plan.

 

“Right, right…” Imelda pulled out the marigold petal, lifting it to her grandson. “You have our blessing, Miguel, with _no conditions._ ”

 

“I promise I won’t let Coco forget you, Papá Héctor,” Miguel said as he looked at his great-great grandfather.

 

Héctor smiled at the boy. “I know you won’t, mijo.”

 

Miguel then looked at his great-aunt, a guilty look on his face. “I’m sorry about what happened back there, Tía Victoria,” he apologized. He felt as though it was his fault, since he had urged her to sing, thus making her go onto the stage. “I didn’t think he would—”

 

“—it’s okay, Miguel,” she reassured him. “You didn’t know, and truth be told, I actually enjoyed singing out there.”

 

“Really?” The twelve year-old was surprised to hear that his usually stoic aunt actually liked singing.

 

“ _Really._ ” A small smile formed on her face. “Now, go home.”

 

The boy nodded, and touched the marigold petal. There was a whirlwind of marigolds and soon, the boy was gone.

 

“Phew,” Héctor sighed in relief. “What a long night this was!”

 

“Definitely the most insane Día de Muertos there ever was,” Victoria remarked, while everyone else nodded in agreement with her comment.

 

“Now, let’s go home,” Imelda said, then brought her fingers to her lips as she whistled for Pepita to come.

 

* * *

 

“Haha!” Ernesto laughed, clapping his hands as he walked out onto the stage, met by the audience’s cheering.

 

“Señor de la Cruz!” One of his security guards approached him, followed by another. “The _delincuentes_ – they've got the photo, and they’re getting away!”

 

“So? Let them,” Ernesto whispered to the guard, his eyes still focused on the audience.

 

“But señor—” the other one tried to protest, only to be cut off by the mariachi.

 

“—I don’t have the time to go after them right now. I have a performance to keep up.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Now go.”

 

The two guards tried to protest again, “But _s_ _eñor!_ ”

 

“Oh, and you’re both fired,” the mariachi added.

 

“ _What?!_ ”

 

“ _Go._ ”

 

With a sigh, the guards headed off the stage while Ernesto continued on with the show. However, one thing was on the mariachi’s mind as the show went on. Whatever it took, he would find a way to get a date with that angel. He would seize his moment, and her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> local mariachi is a lovestruck fool, read more at 11
> 
> also, i just kinda realized how sad it is that only the living will know the truth... but oh well, i guess that’s just how the cookie crumbles sometimes.


	3. that good old sweet, juicy gossip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i mean, there _was_ an audience.
> 
> credit to arandomreader for some of the dialogue used within this chapter.

What the Rivera family had not known as they had left the Sunrise Spectacular was that the audience had a much different view of what they had witnessed between Ernesto and Victoria on stage, since the cameras behind the curtains had not been turned on, thus they had only beared witness to the little performance between the two, and not what had happened afterwards.

 

And with what they’d seen, most members of the audience – along with those who had seen the performance from backstage and on television – came to the conclusion that the musical heartthrob known as Ernesto de la Cruz had finally found himself a girlfriend.

 

It didn’t take long for gossip of the sudden new romance to spread throughout the Land of the Dead, reaching the nonexistent ears of nearly everyone – even celebrities such as Pedro Infante and Jorge Negrete. The rumors continued to spread until finally, the one thought everyone had on their mind was broadcasted live on the news around four o'clock in the morning.

 

“This just in,” an anchorwoman began as she looked at a picture of the performance, which had been taking by a member of the audience. “Last night, famous musician Ernesto de la Cruz had performed a duet of _La Llorona_ with a mysterious woman.” An image of the two dancing appeared on the screen for all to see. “Judging by the way they danced along with the particular lyrics sung – _‘I won’t stop loving you’_ – many have come to the conclusion that de la Cruz has finally got himself a girlfriend.” The anchorwoman turned an anchorman, who sat a few inches away from her. “What do you think, Bernardo?”

 

“Well,” the anchorman began as he turned to the woman, “by the looks of it, Tina, I believe that everyone’s favorite mariachi is officially off the market now.” He turned to face the screen. “However, the question is: who is this mysterious woman that has stolen Mexico’s most beloved celebrity’s heart? And will we be seeing more of the couple in action?”

 

* * *

 

It was noon when most of the Riveras had decided to set out with their usual shoe deliveries, while Héctor and Imelda stayed behind to discuss a few things.

 

Victoria decided to do the shoe delivery on her own as opposed to doing with her family members, mostly due to the fact that she wanted some time to herself in order to think over the previous night’s events, especially her little ‘performance’ at the Sunrise Spectacular.

 

She still couldn’t believe that De la Cruz had not only danced with her, but flirted with her like that backstage – and in front of her _family_ , too! The mariachi was lucky that her father or Mamá Imelda hadn’t grinded his bones into dust because she knew very well that if they had the chance, they would’ve immediately taken it.

 

 _At least it’s all over now_ , she thought to herself. _Héctor’s photo has been put up, and everything’s back to normal…_

Or so she had thought.

 

On the way to deliver the shoes, she passed by two girls around seventeen years of age. The first girl spotted the woman and gasped, pointing at her. “It’s _you!_ It’s actually you!!” she exclaimed excitedly.

 

Victoria turned to the teenager, confused. “What do you— oh…” She then realized what the girl was referring to. “The Sunrise Spectacular…”

 

“You and Ernesto compliment one another very well!” the girl gushed, then squealed a little. “I can’t believe I’m actually speaking to Ernesto de la Cruz’s girlfriend!”

 

“I— _what?!_ ” Victoria’s eyes widened in shock at the last word. Did this girl seriously just refer to her as Ernesto’s  _girlfriend?_  She shook her head in denial. “ _No!_ Ernesto and I are in no way, shape or _form_ together!”

 

“Oh really?” the second girl asked, folding her arms in a skeptical manner. “How do you explain the performance then? Why would Ernesto pick  _you_ of all people to be in a duet with, when he’s always done it solo?”

 

“Did you two _kiss?!_ ” the first girl squealed again.

 

Victoria ran off, not wanting to hear another word come out either of the girls’ mouths.

 

“You can run, but you can’t hide from true love!” the two girls called out after her.

 

Victoria continued running, until she finally made it to her delivery destination – a hardware store. She entered the shop, carrying the box of shoes with her. “Here are the shoes you ordered, señor.”

 

“Muchas gracias, señorita,” the store owner thanked her as he stepped out from behind the counter, approaching the woman. He took the box from her, but then his eyes widened as he recognized her. “Oh dios mío! I didn’t expect to receive a delivery or a visit from De la Cruz’s _novia!_ ”

 

If Victoria had any blood, it would’ve been boiling. “ _What._ ”

 

“You know, I never expected that he would ever settle down, but damn, was I proven wrong last night!” the store owner laughed. “Oh, if only you’d been there to see my friends’ reactions! Their bones were _rattling._ ”

 

“I have to go now,” Victoria said quickly, moving towards the door. “Espero que te gusten los zapatos, señor.”

 

With that, she left the hardware store and made her way down the streets. It aggravated her how people kept assuming that she and Ernesto were in a relationship, all because of the performance at the Sunrise Spectacular. _Me and the man who murdered my abuelito? As if!_ she thought, scoffing.

 

As she walked down the streets, she overheard a conversation between a young woman and man.

 

“The moment I left the amphitheater,” the woman rambled to the man, “I immediately said aloud _‘DIOS MÍO!! Ernesto’s got himself a señora! I’ve been waiting for this moment ever since he made his first romantic song!’_ ”

 

“I totally feel you,” the man agreed, nodding.

 

Victoria’s face scrunched up a bit, before she continued down her path.

 

"Keep it together," she told herself. "It's just another one of those things that people will talk about for a few days and then forget, that's all. There's no need to get worked up over it." She smiled a little. "Besides, it's not like it's on the news or—"

 

She stopped midsentence as she came across an open window display with a bunch of televisions. Her smile disappeared as she saw the image of Ernesto grabbing her arm at the Sunrise Spectacular displayed, with a caption underneath that read:  _esteemed musician, Ernesto de la Cruz, finally settles down with mystery woman._

 

Victoria's shoulders slumped as she realized that almost everyone in the Land of the Dead probably knew about the performance now. She knew now that they would all see her as just Ernesto's "girlfriend", when that wasn't the case at all.

 

"Look!" a man's voice called out. "There she is!"

 

Victoria turned around, and saw a bunch of reporters and men with cameras. 

 

 _Oh, why me?_ she wondered.


	4. papa-paparazzi!

“Señorita!” a bunch of reporters cried out as they ran towards Victoria, holding out their microphones. “What is your relationship with Señor de la Cruz like?”

 

“How and when did you two hook up?”

 

“How long have you been an item?”

 

Victoria looked at all the reporters, anxiety building up within her as they bombarded her with questions. “I…” She backed away slowly, looking around until she spotted her father, aunt and uncles. “I must be getting home now!”

 

She bolted towards her father, aunt and uncles, who turned to her with smiles on their faces as they seemed blissfully unaware of the news.

 

“Hola, mija,” Julio greeted his daughter. Then, he noticed the frantic look on her face. “What is the––”

 

“––we have to go, _now!_ ” Victoria cut him off, quickly gesturing towards the reporters and cameramen.

 

“ _Díos mío!_ ” Rosita gasped as she saw them. “Where did they come from?”

 

“I don’t know!” Victoria replied, shrugging. “All I know is that they think I’m De la Cruz’s novia, because of the performance at the Sunrise Spectacular.”

 

The others gasped, crying out in surprise, " _Novia?!_ "

 

“But you weren’t even dancing with him willingly!” Óscar pointed out.

 

“Anyone with eyes would see that you didn't want to!” Felipe added.

 

“Well apparently, the people are blinder than bats,” Victoria said bluntly. She looked behind her, and saw the crowd running towards her. “Now let’s get out of here!” she exclaimed, turning back to her family.

 

They nodded and ran as quickly as they could back to the shoe shop, while the crowd chased them there while yelling out, "Señorita, wait!"

 

* * *

 

When they made it to the shoe shop, Victoria banged on the door and yelled, "Let us in, let us in,  _let us in!_ "

 

Imelda opened the door, looking at her granddaughter with a confused expression. "Mija, what's wro—" she stopped midsentence as she saw the crowd of reporters and cameramen running towards them. Her eyes widened as she realized what was going on, and she looked to her family and whispered, "Get inside  _now._ "

 

None of them needed to be told twice. They hurried back into the house, while Imelda stepped out onto the porch as the crowd drew near. Some cameramen began recording and some reporters were taking pictures, while others held out their microphones as some members of the crowd called out for Victoria while others had their own questions.

 

“Señora Rivera, are you related to the mystery woman who has stolen De la Cruz’s heart? After all, this is your home.”

 

“Señora Rivera, could you please open the door so that we can ask her some questions and take a couple of pictures?”

 

“Señora Rivera—”

 

“— _ENOUGH!_ ” Imelda shouted, raising her voice to match the crowd’s volume. Once they all hushed up, she said firmly, “First of all: _yes,_ Victoria is my granddaughter.” Her brow furrowed as she heard the crowd begin to murmur amongst themselves. “And secondly: _no,_ I won’t open the door,” she continued. “ _No one_ will be taking any photos of mi nieta, nor will you bother her with any questions. You will leave her be.”

 

“But Señora Rivera, we _have_ to question Señorita Victoria!” a reporter insisted, stepping closer towards the porch.

 

“Yes! The people deserve to know about De la Cruz’s lady!” another reporter added.

 

Imelda was seething with rage at the way they referred to her granddaughter as “De la Cruz’s lady”, as though she was his trophy girlfriend. “I suggest you all leave now,  _or else_ ,” she warned the crowd.

 

Members of the crowd cried out pleas such as “señora, por favor” and “reconsiderar” but Imelda wouldn't relent. Instead, the shoemaker pulled off her boot and held it up as she roared, “ _GET OFF THE STREETS, KEEP YOUR DEVIL CAMERAS AND MICROPHONES TO YOURSELVES AND STAY AWAY FROM MI NIETA!_ ”

 

The reporters and cameramen did as she told them to, quickly scattering away from the shoe shop.

 

Imelda glared at their disappearing figures for a minute, then slipped her boot back on. She went back inside the house, only to find the rest of the family sitting at the kitchen table. Victoria had her head in her hands, while the twins, Julio and Rosita looked exhausted. Héctor had a bewildered look on his face as he looked at his family, then at Imelda.

 

“What was up with the paparazzi?” he asked, confused.

 

“Those _idiotas_ were trying to bother our nieta,” Imelda answered. “So naturally, I took care of the problem.”

 

Héctor still didn’t fully grasp the situation. “But why were they trying to bother Victoria?”

 

“It’s because of the performance at the Sunrise Spectacular,” Victoria explained, looking up from her hands to her grandfather. “People think I’m Ernesto’s novia because of our ‘duet’—” she made air quotes with her fingers “—and the way he spun me around.”

 

Héctor’s jaw nearly dropped. “ _NOVIA?!_ ” he shouted, leaning so far back into his chair to the point where he stumbled back, almost falling over. “But – but your _body movements!_ How can they be so blind to have missed the clear signs that you were struggling to _get away from him?!_ ”

 

“Apparently, de la Cruz’s fans are composed entirely of _tontos_ ,” Victoria stated dryly. She let out a sigh, “I’ll never be able to go outside ever again now…”

 

“Don’t say that, mija,” Imelda said as she approached her granddaughter, placing a hand on the young woman’s back. “If anyone else tries to badger you with their questions or take a picture of you without your permission, just let me know and I’ll use my shoe on them.”

 

“Or sic Pepita on them,” the twins added.

 

“Or that. That could work too,” Imelda agreed at her brothers’ suggestion, nodding.

 

“Either way, you’ve got your _familia_ ,” Héctor told his granddaughter. “And I can assure you that as long as we’re around, no one will be pestering you any further.”

 

Victoria smiled a little, thankful to have such a wonderful family on her side. “Gracias,” she whispered.

 

* * *

 

While the Rivera family found the paparazzi with their questions to be a nuisance, Ernesto enjoyed answering their questions as he relished talking more about his dear angel.

 

And so that night, he sat down with a TV host for an interview about his new ‘relationship.’

 

“So, Señor de la Cruz,” the host began, “is it true that you’re in a relationship with this mystery woman – Victoria Rivera, I believe she was called?”

 

“Sí,” Ernesto lied, nodding. _Victoria… what a fitting name for an angel like her_ , he thought to himself. “We are in a relationship, yes.”

 

“When and how did you two meet?” the host questioned him.

 

“We met backstage a few weeks ago, after a midnight performance,” he answered, twisting the truth a little. It wasn’t entirely a lie since they did _technically_ meet backstage, though it had been on Día de Muertos. Still, it _was_ true to a certain extent. “I was going to head to my dressing room, until I heard a soft, angelic voice singing. I followed the voice, and that was when I met her:  _el amor de mi vida_ _._ ” He grinned as he heard the crowd let out an "aww" at his tale. “Needless to say, it was love at first sight. There’s not a day where I’m not thankful to have met her.”

 

“This Victoria sounds like a real keeper,” the host remarked.

 

“She is,” he sighed happily, his heart soaring at the thought of his marvellous angel. “She’s the most extraordinary, stunning, wonderful woman I’ve ever met – an angel sent from above.”

 

“Will we be seeing the two of you in action again soon?” the host asked.

 

“Oh, _yes,_ ” the mariachi responded, smirking as he began thinking of a plan to get Victoria to go on a date with him. Wooing her was going to be his greatest victory yet. “Indeed, you will see us in action again  _very soon_ …”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyways, the next chapter will probably either switch to the living world with miguel trying to find evidence, or ernesto trying to approach victoria in order to get that date(tm) – idk, i’m still unsure/planning it out. also, i know i got like too many AU ideas but for some reason i wanna write a genderbent!vicesto; only problem is, i have no idea how the premise of that would turn out, aside from the fact that it’d probably take place in a reverse AU.  
> with that rambling aside, hope you liked it!


	5. in the land of the living

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaand we're finally starting off the side-plot of this fic! yaaay.
> 
> it's slightly short, but that's because i wanna save some stuff for later on in the story, since we're gonna be jumping back to this side-plot after a couple of chapters of victoria and ernesto
> 
> on a fun little sidenote: i changed my tumblr url cause i managed to snag the "vicesto" one – it's officially my brand now. >:3c

To say the morning Miguel had returned home had been crazy would be the understatement of the century.

 

When the boy had woken up in De la Cruz’s tomb, he immediately took the guitar and hurried back home in order to keep his promise to Papá Héctor. Of course, his grandmother had tried to stop him from entering Mamá Coco’s room, demanding where he’d been and what he was doing with the guitar – but he pushed past her and slammed the door shut, locking it so that he and Coco were the only ones in the room at the current time.

 

His first attempts at reawakening her memory didn’t work, but the second attempt he’d made after his family unlocked the door and entered the room _did._ The way he sung her father’s lullaby and played his guitar had caused memories to flood into the ninety-nine year-old’s head as a miracle happened – she was brought back to life as Papá Héctor’s memory was restored.

 

After she had told the family some stories of Héctor and the man’s photo had been put up, Miguel explained everything to his family – from how he’d gotten himself cursed, to the Sunrise Spectacular. Needless to say, they were all shocked by his tale. Thankfully though, they believed him; although his grandmother was a bit skeptical at the part of her dead sister singing, since they’d both been raised abhorring music.

 

Once the truth had been told, the music ban was lifted with his father, Enrique, immediately declaring afterwards that they had to seek justice for their ancestor. Now, the boy went through his great-great grandfather’s letters, carefully reading them and noting the dates while his father stood by and listened in as the evidence all piled up.

 

“ _‘Dear Coco, I am so sorry that I’ve been gone for so long,’_ ” Miguel read the final letter aloud. “ _‘I didn’t plan for the tour to be more than a few months, but your Tío Ernesto kept insisting that we keep on touring the country. I’m afraid he’s getting a little too obsessive about this, to the point where he’s changed so much… it’s like he’s another person. I’ve tried talking some sense into him, but he won’t listen to a word I say. I promise you though, I’ll be on a train home next week – signed your loving papá, Héctor Rivera.’_ ” The boy then looked at the top half of the paper again, and saw that the date was the first day of December. “The date is December 1st…” He held the last letter up to his father. “He wrote that he’d be home the next week, but…” He shuddered as he knew what had really happened to his great-great grandfather.

 

“He was murdered on the way back,” Enrique finished his son’s sentence, a grim look on his face. His stomach churned at the very thought of his great-grandfather being poisoned by De la Cruz, but he tried to remain strong. He had to, not only for his ancestor but for his son as well. “Come, mijo,” he said to his son. “We’ll have to take these letters to the police station if we’re going to prove that Papá Héctor is the real genius.”

 

The boy nodded and followed his father as the older man led the way to the police station.

 

* * *

 

“Huh…”

 

A police officer sat at his desk, reading over the last letter Héctor had written for his daughter. “December 1st, 1921…” He looked to Miguel and Enrique. “And you’re saying he never came back the next week because he was murdered on the way home?”

 

“Sí, señor,” Miguel answered, nodding. “I believe he might’ve been poisoned by de la Cruz on the way home.”

 

The police officer raised an eyebrow at this. “Are you sure about that, kid?” he asked, slightly skeptical that Mexico’s most famous musician would commit such a crime.

 

“ _Yes!_ ” Miguel yelled, a little frustrated by the policeman’s skeptical attitude.

 

“ _Miguel,_ ” Enrique said softly, putting his hands on the boy’s shoulders as an attempt to calm him down. Then, he looked to the police officer. “Look, doesn’t it all seem a just little bit suspicious how de la Cruz got famous because he took credit for songs that weren’t even his to begin with? Doesn’t concern you in the _least bit_ that Héctor _died_ while coming home from a tour with de la Cruz?”

 

The policeman soaked in the other man’s words, deliberating over them. “Hmm… you _do_ have a point,” he muttered, putting his hand to his chin. “Perhaps, we should search for the man's remains – _then_ we can come to a conclusion whether or not it was murder.”

 

“Oh, _gracias_ , señor!” Enrique exclaimed, feeling very thankful that the officer was willing to investigate the case. “I promise you, you won’t regret this investigation.”

 

Miguel let out a sigh as a wave of relief washed over him. Once they found the remains, Papá Héctor’s honor would be restored and de la Cruz would be exposed for what he really was: a lying, cruel murderous thief.

 

Now, he could only hope that his deceased family members were doing okay back in the Land of the Dead…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next up: we'll be seeing victoria and ernesto interacting again, featuring some of that good old tension... ;))


	6. confrontation and a talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took a while to update, since i'm working on one of my post-canon fic ideas now (which i plan to upload soon), but here's chapter 6! enjoy. :3c  
> also, happy thanksgiving from the carribean! :D

Victoria’s eyes were wide as plates as the interview clip ended, having been shown on the news. She leaned back against the couch in shock at all of the lies she had just heard.

 

“That _chucho!_ ” Héctor spat, his eyes narrowing at the television screen. “How dare he lie like that, in front of millions of people?”

 

“I’m going to kill him,” Imelda growled, crossing her arms.

 

“No, Abuelita,” Victoria spoke as she sat up. “You don’t have to do that. I can take care of him myself.” Her eyes narrowed as an image of Ernesto winking at the camera flashed on the television screen. Silently, she swore to herself that if she ever saw him again, she’d lay it into him _real hard_.

 

* * *

 

Indeed, she got her chance later that day, as she and the twins headed out to deliver a box of boots.

 

Óscar and Felipe stuck close to her sides, shouting at anyone who tried to come up to her and attempt to hound her with questions. At one point, Felipe nearly threw a shoe at a person who tried to record them with a camera, only for Victoria to pull him back and tell him that it wasn’t worth it.

 

As they continued to walk down the streets, they saw a person point ahead and shout: “ _Mira!_ It’s Señor de la Cruz!”

 

Victoria’s eyes followed to where the person was pointing, until her gaze fell upon the mariachi himself, who was accompanied by his bodyguards, though there were only two now as opposed to four.

 

“Señor de la Cruz!” a bunch of people cried out as they immediately flocked over to the beloved celebrity to hound him with some questions.

 

“Señor de la Cruz, what brings you around these parts?”

 

“Have you come to see your girlfriend?”

 

“Are you two going to go on a date?”

 

“Will it be a private date or a public date?”

 

“Mi familia, please,” Ernesto chuckled as he pushed through the crowd, his security guards still close by his side. “I’d love to stay and answer all of your questions, but I fear that I’m a little… busy, at the moment.”

 

Victoria’s eyes narrowed. “Could you take these boxes for me?” she asked the twins. “I need to take care of something.”

 

The twins looked at each other and smirked, before taking the boxes. “Kick his _trasero,_ Vico!” they exclaimed.

 

Victoria kicked off one of her shoes and grabbed it, then chucked it across to hit the mariachi, to which it was a successful shot. She smirked a little as she heard the mariachi yelp as the shoe hit his head, knocking him down to the ground.

 

“Argh…” he groaned, rubbing the side of his head. “Who threw that–?” he stopped as his gaze fell upon his angel. “Oh…” He smiled a little as he stood up, brushing off his suit and pants.

 

“Señor de la Cruz, are you okay?” one of his fans asked, concerned.

 

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” Ernesto answered. He then looked to his guards and nodded a bit, signaling for them to stall the crowd. “Now,” he said as he began to walk away from the crowd, “if you’ll excuse me, I have a lover to get to.”

 

The crowd let out a few “awws” in disappointment, before the guards took care of keeping them entertained while Ernesto walked towards Victoria.

 

“Hola, _mi angelita,_ ” the mariachi greeted the woman.

 

“I’m _not_ your angel,” Victoria said through gritted teeth, her brow furrowing. “What are you doing here?”

 

“What, can’t a man pay a visit to his beloved?” Ernesto asked, laughing a little. He moved a little closer to her. “I came here to ask you if you’d like to go on a little dinner date with me.”

 

The twins’ jaws nearly dropped, while Victoria looked at him in disbelief. “ _Pardon?_ ”

 

“Would you like to go out to dinner with me, cariño?” Ernesto asked her, raising his brows a little while the smile on his face kept getting bigger with each second.

 

“You’re asking me if I’d like to go out with _you?_ ” Victoria questioned him, unable to believe what she was hearing.

 

“Yes or no, will you?” he repeated his question.

 

“After what you’ve done to my family? _Not a chance!_ ” she yelled, disgusted that he even thought for a _second_ that she’d say yes.

 

“ _HELL NO!_ ” the twins yelled in unison, equally as disgusted as their niece.

 

Ernesto looked around, noticing that a few people were now staring at them. “Ahem,” he cleared his throat as he looked back at Victoria, gesturing to those who were staring. “How about we talk about this in private?”

 

Óscar raised an eyebrow. “ _Private?_ ”

 

“You’re kidding, right?” Felipe asked in a dull tone.

 

“The public doesn’t need to know what we’re talking about,” Ernesto said, his eyes focused on Victoria as he held out a hand.

 

“Fine,” she sighed, taking his hand. “Let’s talk.”

 

He led her into a dark alleyway, before making sure that no one was watching or eavesdropping on their conversation. Once he was certain, he said, “Look, I’ve met many women in my lifetime, but none of them were like _you._ ” When she gave him a look of confusion, he elaborated, “You are much more beautiful, more _passionate_. Your voice is that of an _angel’s._ It would be the _greatest honor_ if I could take you out to dinner.”

 

At first, Victoria was a little stunned by at the compliments he gave her as _no one_ had ever said anything like that about her, but then she frowned as his last words registered in her mind. “Are you _insane?_ ” she asked, shaking her head as she backed away a bit. “You tried to kill my nephew! _You KILLED my grandfather!_ ”

 

He simply just shrugged. “Water under the bridge, mi amor.”

 

“No, it’s _not_ ‘water under the bridge’!” she shouted as she stomped her foot. “You expect me to go out with you when you _murdered_ my Papá Héctor, and threw my nephew Miguel in a _pit?!_ ”

 

“The boy’s still alive, isn’t he?” the mariachi asked. “And Héctor is back at the shoe shop, yes?”

 

“Well, yes, but–”

 

“–and he wasn’t forgotten.” Ernesto stepped closer to Victoria. “So really, there’s no reason to be angry now, is there?”

 

“Actually, there are _several_ reasons to be angry,” Victoria countered as she pushed him back. “You committed murder, attempted murder, _stole_ my grandfather’s songs, _lied_ and _cheated_ your way to fame, you encouraged those rumors about us to the point where I can't even go out in public without a family member accompanying me _and_ your shoes are poorly made!”

 

“M-my shoes?” Ernesto stammered, shocked that she would insult his shoes like that.

 

“Ugh!” Victoria let out a loud groan, placing both of her hands on the sides of her head for a moment. “You’re just so – _so_ – _SO INFURIATING!_ ”

 

“Woah! Tranquilícese, señorita.” He raised his hands up in defense. “I did not mean to anger you – that was not my intention.”

 

“Intentional or not, you’re still a _dolor en el trasero,_ ” she grumbled, crossing her arms as she looked away from him.

 

“I–” he paused for a moment, carefully thinking over his words. “You’re right,” he said slowly. “I apologize for being such a nuisance.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, grinning a little. “How about I make it up to you by treating you to dinner?”

 

She looked back at him, raising a brow. “Really? You want to make it up to me by taking me out on a date?”

 

“It’s the least I can do, after all the trouble I’ve caused for you and your family,” he insisted.

 

She looked a little skeptical at first, until she thought about it and realized that he would probably just keep bending over backwards to go on a date with her. “Alright,” she relented. “Dinner it is.”

 

“ _Excelente!_ ” The mariachi clasped his hands together, smirking. He winked at her. “I’ll see you around eight o’clock tomorrow night.”

 

Ernesto headed out the alleyway, but before he left, he looked back and blew a kiss at Victoria.

 

Once he was gone, Victoria shook her head again, letting out a loud sigh.

 

“What have I gotten myself into?” she muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, kudos to arandomreader for giving me an idea on a direction to take, though of course it's still gonna be like 50 dates soooo... the next chapter's gonna be a doozy. i've said it before but i'll say it again: suggestions are highly appreciated, so if anyone has any ideas for how the date would go, do not hesitate to throw them at me because as you can see i'm very desperate. XD
> 
> also, credit to hexly for some of the dialogue! thanks, dude. you're the best.


	7. a date to remember…?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i thought about this chapter and looked over some suggestions – and then randomly, i got an idea in my head for this one… which was totally not inspired by some sitcoms from youtube and the fact that i am a cheesy girl who doesn't know how to write bad first dates. that, and it kinda helps tie into the second date attempt.<_< >_>
> 
> also added a small crossover/one character from a different source here because i'm crossover trash also because i just can. rating's also been changed because i looked back and the second chapter and _wow is ernesto a pervert or what!_  
>  that, and i wanted to add swears for the sake of humor.

“I can’t believe you actually _agreed_ to go on a date with _Ernesto!_ ” Héctor yelled, throwing his arms up as he watched Imelda help Victoria get into a simple black and white dress with flower patterns on its ruffles.

 

“Well, I didn’t really have much of a choice,” Victoria replied as she slipped into the dress, sticking her arms out of the sleeves. “He was  _very_ persistent on going out with me.”

 

“And you _gave into him just like that?!_ ” Héctor threw his arms up in the air. “ _Oy!_ Now the paparazzi will start stalking you when you’re out on that date, and _of course_ Ernesto’s going to use that opportunity to lie to the public even further about your quote-on-quote _‘relationship’!_ ”

 

Imelda looked at her husband, her eyes hard and narrowed. “Quit talking like that! You’ll only make her nervous!” she scolded him.

 

“You’re right. Lo siento,” Héctor sighed, pinching the place where the bridge of his nose had once been. “It’s just – the man who _murdered me_ has this weird infatuation with _mi nieta,_ and they’re going out on a _date._ Do you know how fucked up that is?”

 

“Oh believe me, Abuelito,” Victoria said in a low voice. “ _I know._ ”

 

“Now remember,” Imelda said as she placed a marigold flower into her granddaughter's hair, “if he does anything that bothers you even the _slightest bit,_ you muster up all the strength you have and give him a good beating with your shoes. Make him wish he was underneath the bell.”

 

Victoria nodded. “I will, Abuelita.”

 

Soon, there was a knock on the door. The three looked at the door, then at each other as they knew who it was.

 

Suddenly, Julio rushed into the room and shouted, “IS THAT HIM? _MALDITO BASTARDO!_ LET ME AT HIM! I'M GONNA–!”

 

Rosita ran over to her brother and picked him up, restraining from any attempts to grind Ernesto into a dusty little pulp. “Sorry about that,” she giggled awkwardly. “You know how fathers can be sometimes… always trying to look out for their pequeña hija.”

 

“Let me go, Rosita!” Julio said through gritted teeth as he kicked his legs. “That _hijo de puta_ needs to be taught a lesson for all that he’s done!”

 

“ _Anyway,_ ” Imelda cleared her throat, then placed a hand on Victoria’s shoulder. “Good luck, mija.”

 

“You're gonna need it,” Héctor added quietly.

 

Victoria took a deep breath in, then went over to the door. She opened it and came face to face with Ernesto, who was dressed in a black mariachi suit with a matching hat and a red tie.

 

“Hola, _mi angelita_ ,” Ernesto greeted her, grinning widely.

 

“Hola, Ernesto,” she greeted him back in a blank tone.

 

Ernesto held his hand out for her to take. “Shall we get going, mi amor?”

 

Victoria rolled her eyes, then took his hand. “Yes, let’s go now.”

 

Imelda and Héctor watched as Victoria left the house, closing the door behind her.

 

"I'm going to light a candle for her," Héctor stated, before he went off to do the deed.

 

"And I will prepare some boots in case any reporters come by," Imelda sighed, shaking her head as she went to get the materials needed to make the shoes. "Damn mariachi and his loco fans…"

 

* * *

 

Inside the limousine, Victoria and Ernesto were sitting next to each other. Ernesto was looking at Victoria, smiling at her while she was scooting away a bit.

 

"So, uh, which restaurant are we going to?" she asked curiously, while feeling a little awkward.

 

"We're going to dine at Bonejangles'," Ernesto replied.

 

Victoria tilted her head, confused as she never heard of such a restaurant before. " _Bonejangles'?_   I don't recall there ever being a restaurant with that name." Then again, maybe it was because of the music ban. After all, most of the restaurant food her family had bought whenever no one felt like cooking in the past was usually ordered instead of them just going out to dine.

 

"They brought their business over here from England a couple of years ago," Ernesto told her. "It's a very nice place. Sometimes, they put on a show while the customers are dining. And the food isn't bad either, even if it is made by gringos."

 

"I see…" Victoria looked out the window for a moment, watching as buildings passed by, until the limousine stopped.

 

"Ah, we're here!" Ernesto opened one of the doors and stepped out. He headed to Victoria's side and opened her door, taking her hand into his as he led her out. "Come, mi querida."

 

Once they were out of the car, they were met with gasps as they joined the line outside the large restaurant.

 

"Look, it's Señor de la Cruz!" a woman gasped.

 

"And he's brought his girlfriend with him!" a man added.

 

"Dios mío! They're on a date!"

 

"Is this real or am I dreaming? Someone, please pinch me now!"

 

"I feel like the luckiest person alive to be here to witness this!"

 

"Quick!" a reporter called out to a cameraman nearby. "Start filming! The world must see this!"

 

Meanwhile, a few people in line began taking pictures of the 'couple', much to Victoria's displeasure.

 

"Could you please stop?" she pleaded, trying to hide the irritation in her tone. As people continued to take pictures, she looked to Ernesto. "Ernesto, can you get your fans to stop taking pictures of us?"

 

"But don't you want some photos to keep, so that you can look back on this day fondly?" he asked her. He flinched as she shot a glare at him, and then quickly said to the others in line, "Please put your cameras away. Mi angelita and I are trying to have a casual date."

 

Those with cameras looked at each other, before letting out sighs and grumbles as they put their cameras away.

 

“Thank you,” Victoria whispered.

 

“Anything for you, mi amor.” Ernesto winked at her, making her roll her eyes.

 

After a few minutes passed as they waited for the people in front of them to move, they finally made it to the front of the line.

 

“Ah, Señor de la Cruz!” the manager said in an accented voice, smiling. “It is such a pleasure to have you and your partner here tonight! Come, let me show you to your table.”

 

The two followed the manager as he led them inside the restaurant to a fancy little section set up just for them. “Please, sit down while I go fetch a waiter,” he told the two, before hurrying off to fetch the waiter.

 

Ernesto pulled out a chair for Victoria, bowing his head a little. “My lady.”

 

Victoria sat down in the chair, while Ernesto went over and sat down in his. She looked around and saw a few couples staring at them, while there were blue corpses delivering food to other folks. In the background, smooth jazz music played – and it was then that she heard a loud, American-accented voice yell out, “Well, well, well! If it ain’t the man himself: the one and only Ernesto de la Cruz!”

 

The two turned to see a large-jawed, one-eyed skeleton with a bowler hat walking towards them. Ernesto smiled as he exclaimed, "Ah, Bonejangles!"

 

"Didn't expect to see you here tonight," Bonejangles said as he came up to the two. He looked to Victoria. "And I see you've brought your gal with ya." He held out a long-fingered hand. "Pleased to meet ya, Miss."

 

"The pleasure is mine, Señor Bonejangles," Victoria said slowly as she shook his hand.

 

"Truly is an honor to meet the lover of Mexico's best musician," Bonejangles remarked, grinning. "You know," he continued, pulling his hand away. "I never thought he'd settle for a single girl. Thought he was gonna just be another one of them heartthrobs… 'till you came along. Now he's acting like a lovesick puppy."

 

"I–" Victoria was about to correct him and say that she wasn't Ernesto's girlfriend, but was cut off by the two men's laughter.

 

"Can you blame me? She's _muy especial_ ," Ernesto chuckled.

 

"Well, she's a real keeper, that's for sure!" 

 

Bonejangles patted the mariachi's shoulder, then backed away. "I'm gonna go strike up the band – play a little song to set the mood, if ya get what I mean." He winked at the 'couple,' then left.

 

Ernesto waved as the other man left, then looked back to Victoria. "So tell me, angelita, do you have any hobbies?"

 

"I enjoy reading, drawing, calligraphy... you know, simple things," she answered, shrugging.

 

"And those are _all_ of your hobbies?" he pressed on.

 

"Um, not really…" She looked down at her lap as she twiddled her thumbs. "I used to dance and sing in private, when I was a young girl…" She smiled a little as she remembered her childhood. "I wanted to be an actress. I wanted to travel, sing and perform, but…"

 

" _But_ …?"

  
"I couldn't because of the music ban," she went on. "When I was eighteen, I told Mamá Imelda about my dream and she told me that I should stay at the shoe shop. She said, _'I already lost my husband. I don't want to lose another member of mi familia to music, okay?'_ " Her smile faded. "So I listened to my grandmother, and went by her rules from then on. I stopped singing and dancing. I gave up on anything related to music entirely, because I didn't want to end up like my grandfather… forgotten by mi familia, and left off of the ofrenda – my name being uttered like it was a _curse._ "

 

“I – I’m sorry to hear that,” Ernesto stammered out an apology, a wave of guilt and discomfort washing over him as he realized that the woman was forced to give up her dreams because of his actions. “A lovely lady like you should never have to give up her passion.” There was silence for a few seconds, then he tried to change the subject by asking, “Cuál es tu bebida favorita?”

 

“Wine,” Victoria answered, looking up from her lap.

 

“Oye, waiter!” Ernesto called out.

 

The waiter came rushing to their table, huffing out, “Sorry, señores. I was busy with someone else’s order.” He straightened himself up as he took out a pencil and a small notebook. “What is it that you would like to drink?”

 

“We’ll both have wine,” Ernesto answered.

 

The waiter nodded and left to go get the wine bottle, leaving the two alone once again. Once the waiter was gone, a song began to play in the background.

 

 _“Cuando tu pelo está,_ _  
_

_Sustituyendo al sol,_

_En el comun alta de nuestra habitación.”_

 

“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?” Ernesto whispered, leaning over the table towards her.

 

“Err... no,” Victoria replied, her markings glowing a little at his compliment. “Not really. A lot of men used to say I looked like a toad back when I was alive.”

 

“A _toad?_ ” Ernesto couldn’t believe it. How could anyone think that an angel as beautiful as her could ever resemble an ugly creature like a toad? “Those men clearly don’t know what beauty is, because you look _stunning._ ” He took her arm, kissing her hand. “Tú, querida, eres como una _diosa._ ”

 

Victoria’s markings glowed brighter. “Th– thank you, Señor de la Cruz.”

 

“There’s no need to be so formal now, muñeca,” Ernesto said, smirking. “We’re on a date now, aren’t we?” He moved even closer, to the point where their faces were only a few inches away from each other’s. “Call me _Ernesto._ ”

 

Victoria nodded. “Alright.”

 

Ernesto was about to continue flirting with her, until he heard a bunch of screams and squeals. He and Victoria turned to see a crowd of women standing not too far away from their table.

 

“Santa María, it’s him! It’s _actually him!_ ”

 

“I’m so happy I could die again right now!”

 

“ _Ern_ _esto!!_ ”

  
“Oh, he’s even _more_ handsome in person!”

 

“ _Ugh!_ He’s with _her,_ though!”

 

“That _puta!_ ”

 

“What makes _her_ so special?”

 

“I know, right? Just because she can sing and dance doesn’t mean she deserves him!”

 

“She’s just a _nobody_ coming from a family of _lowly shoemakers!_ ”

 

“Not just any family of shoemakers though! She’s _Imelda Rivera’s_ _nieta!_ ”

 

“You mean that woman who banned music for an _entire century_ just because her husband left?”

 

“ _HAH!_ How embarrassing!”

 

“The one and only _Ernesto de la Cruz_ with the _talentless hack_ that is Imelda Rivera’s granddaughter? Sounds like the start of a bad joke!”

 

Victoria shifted in her seat uncomfortably as she heard their insults, each of them feeling like a sting to her pride and confidence.

 

Ernesto’s fist clenched. Just _how dare_ these women insult his angel like that?

 

“He’s probably just taking her out on a date because he feels sorry for upstaging her at the Sunrise Spectacular.”

 

“Definitely. There’s _no way_ he’s actually in love with her. I mean, can you even _imagine_ them together?”

 

“That shrieking _buitre_ as his _girlfriend?_ Don’t make me laugh!”

 

“As if that _zorra_ could ever be worthy of such a status!”

 

Victoria felt tears sting her eyes. The women's insults were like knives, cutting into her heart and spirit. Sure, they were right about the fact that she and Ernesto weren't an item, but how they said he was only taking her out because he pitied her, how lowly she was compared to him and how she didn't deserve him… those words hurt her. They hurt more than she could ever imagine, as she now wondered if they were true – if Ernesto had just been toying with her because he pitied her, instead of actually caring about her.

 

 _But why?_ she wondered. _Why do I feel sad over him? Why am I worrying whether he's doing this out of pity or not? Why should I care if he loves me or not?_

 

She took a few deep breaths, then stood up. "I – I should go now," she said quietly, her voice wavering. "It seems that tonight isn't exactly going as according to plan, and – and – and mi familia is probably waiting for me back at home. I mustn't have them worrying about me."

 

Ernesto shook his head. "Angelita, no,  _wait_ –"

 

But it was too late, for she already grabbed the hems of her dress and left the restaurant.

 

Ernesto gritted his teeth as he looked at the crowd of women. "How dare you?" he hissed. "How dare you say such horrible things about her? _How dare you_ say she's unworthy, when she's better than you'll ever be?"

 

One of the women tried to defend themselves, "We were only–"

 

"–you were only what?" he interrupted. "You were only saying that for my sake?" His eyes narrowed. "Well, I'll have you know that I _do_ love her – in fact, she's the only woman who's managed to fully capture my heart." As the women backed away, he finished with, "So if you think talking like that about her will get you to earn my respect, then you are _wrong._ "

 

There was silence for a moment, then the women all let out a "hmmph" and left while everyone else in the restaurant began clapping.

  
Ernesto sighed as he thought to himself, _I need to find mi angelita and talk to her…_

 

* * *

 

As Imelda was washing the dishes, she heard a knock on the door. She went over and opened it to see her granddaughter standing on the porch, a look of sadness in her eyes.

 

“Mija, what happened?” she asked, her voice soft and filled with concern.

  
“There was an interruption during the date,” Victoria replied. “And, well, _apparently_ according to some of De la Cruz’s fangirls, I’m not worthy of him.”

 

Imelda clenched her fists. “Those _pinche putas_ ,” she hissed. Then, she pulled her granddaughter into a hug. “Don’t listen to them, mija. If anything, _he’s_ unworthy of a _buena niña_ like _you._ ”

 

Victoria smiled a little as she returned the hug. “Gracias, Abuelita.”

 

“De nada.” Imelda pulled away from the hug, stepping aside to let her granddaughter come in. “Now, why don’t you come in and I make you some casserole?”

 

Victoria nodded and went inside the house, with her grandmother shutting the door behind her.

 

One thought remained in Victoria’s mind, and that was how much of a _failure_ the date had been. She could only hope that she wouldn’t have to go through another date like that ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it's not a great ending, but it's the only one i had in mind... sorry.
> 
> question: should i do the next date after this, or should we all get a glimpse on miguel’s search for evidence? a part of me is going for the latter, as there’s just so much craziness going on with these two that we might need another break lol.
> 
> i would also like to apologize for not updating this along with my other fic sooner, it's just that i was dealing with a few things while planning out some (mostly post-canon) fics. 
> 
> oh, and the song used in this chapter is "yo te amo", which is a spanish version of the late johnny hallyday's "que je t'aime."


	8. a joint chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whats up gamers i'm back with another chapter, and this time it's a joint one because a. we need more miguel and b. showing how both were doing in their own worlds as hexly suggested seemed like a good idea, so why not.

Like most boys his age, Miguel didn’t care much for heading to the library and only really went there when it came to school projects – but now, seeing as his great-great grandfather’s honor depended on it, the twelve year-old knew that he had to go through several libraries in order to find some clues on where to find the man’s body, along with other pieces of evidence against De la Cruz as well.

 

He searched through dozens of news clippings of De la Cruz’s up and coming fame, until one seemed to catch his eye – an article from December 1931 titled _El Ascenso del Príncipe de México_.

 

“ _Starting out as an ordinary man, Ernesto de la Cruz has made his way to the top after playing at Santa Cecilia’s mariachi plaza ten years ago,_ ” Miguel read aloud. “ _Recently, he starred in a film by acclaimed director Jose Martínez titled ‘El Camino a Casa’ as a young man who is desperate to return to his family after months of being on the road._ ” The twelve year-old couldn’t help but shudder at the irony of it all – the film’s premise, and how it aired only ten years after Héctor’s death. “ _An interviewer sat down with the famous musician and asked how his life had been like prior to his rise to fame and glory. The thirty-five year-old’s response was: ‘I was a nobody – just another poor boy who lost his family during the revolution. I always dreamed of becoming a musician and playing for the world, but I never had the courage to do so until I took a trip to Mexico City and realized that I had to seize my moment.’_ ” The boy’s eyes widened as he realized that the capital was probably were his grandfather’s remains were.

 

Miguel rushed to the front of the library, where Enrique was waiting near the entrance. “Papá, Papá!”

 

“ _Shhh_ !” the librarian shushed him. “ _Inside voices,_ please!”

 

“Woops, sorry,” Miguel apologized, then turned to his father. “Papá, I know where Papá Héctor’s body is! It’s in Mexico City!”

 

“ _Mexico City?_ Are you sure?” Enrique asked his son. He was a little hesitant, since the capital was six hours away from their hometown.

 

Miguel nodded. “I’m positive – De la Cruz said so himself that he realized he needed to ‘seize his moment’ there.”

 

“Well then…” Enrique let out a sigh. “I guess we’ve gotta buy ourselves a pair of trains tickets to the capital then, if we’re ever gonna find Papá Héctor’s corpse.”

 

And with that, both father and son left the library to head out to the nearest train station.

 

* * *

 

Back in the Land of the Dead, Victoria was lying on her bed, mulling over her failed date with Ernesto. It hadn’t been as terrible as she thought it would be – in fact, it surprisingly went well for most of the time, until those _brutas_ came along.

 

What surprised her the most though was what she saw on television the morning after – on television, she saw the footage that was taken not long after she left; she saw Ernesto standing up to the women who insulted her, defending her from their insults. To think, Mexico’s most beloved celebrity had dropped his love of popularity to _stand up for her_ – though of course, his popularity only increased as people applauded him for being so protective and caring towards his ‘pequeña amante.’ Still, she appreciated it nonetheless.

 

But she was also confused – why did it hurt so much when the women said that she wasn’t good enough for Ernesto? Why did it hurt when they said there was no way he loved her? After all, he was an _idiota,_ a pervert _and_ her grandfather’s _murderer_ – there was _no way_ she could ever have feelings for someone like _him!_ And yet, she felt so emotional over him that night – she got so emotional over him, in a way that she never became over anyone else.

 

She sighed and rolled over, pressing her face against the pillow. “Stupid emotions,” she grumbled. “Why must everything be so complicated?”

 

Suddenly, she heard a familiar voice singing from outside the house.

 

_“What color is the sky?_

_Ay mi amor, ay mi amor!_

_You tell me that it’s red._

_Ay mi amor, ay mi amor!_

_Where should I put my shoes?_

_Ay mi amor, ay mi amor!_

_You say ‘put them on your head!’_

_Ay mi amor, ay mi amor!”_

 

Victoria got off the bed, and went over to look out the window. She saw Ernesto standing a few steps away from the porch, holding her grandfather’s skull guitar as he strummed its strings and played the song her abuelito had dedicated to her abuelita.

 

_“You make me un poco loco,_

_Un poquititito loco!_

_The way you keep me guessing,_

_I’m nodding and I’m yesing!_

_I’ll count it as a blessing,_

_That I’m only un poco loco!”_

 

She rolled her eyes, knowing very well that the mariachi was dedicating the song to her. She left her room, heading down the stairs – where at the bottom, she could hear the groaning and moaning of her family.

 

“Is that _pervertido, bastardo psicótico_ for real?” Julio asked, his eyes narrowing as he tried to block out the forty six year-old’s singing by pulling his hat over his head.

 

“You’d think that a player like him would just move on already–” Felipe started.

 

“–and find some other girl to pester!” Óscar finished.

 

“A girl who’s not _two generations_ younger than him!” Rosita pointed out the age gap.

 

“Or that he would write his own songs to serenade her with, instead of using the songs written by his former amigo who he _murdered_!” Héctor spat, still miffed about the plagiarism and murder.

 

“I swear, I am going to _dust him_ if he so much as sings another verse,” Imelda growled.

 

“There’s no need to do that, Mamá Imelda,” Victoria said as she went over to the door. “I’ll take care of him myself.”

 

“Are you sure?” Imelda asked her granddaughter.

 

"I'm positive," Victoria replied, then opened the door and went outside. Once she was out of the house, she closed the door behind her and stepped off the porch, walking over to the mariachi.

 

_“The loco that you make me,_

_It is just un poco crazy!_

_The sense that you’re not making,_

_The liberties you’re taking,_

_Leaves my cabeza shaking…_

_You are just un poco loco!”_

 

Ernesto stopped, however, as his eyes fell upon Victoria. “Ah, mi angelita! I’m so glad you could come out!”

 

“Why are you here, Ernesto?” she asked, folding her arms.

 

“Can’t a man serenade his love?” he asked, grinning at her. Then, he slung his guitar over his back and grabbed her hand. “Come, I want to take you somewhere.”

 

“Wh–”

 

Before she could even ask him why, he yanked her hand and began to drag her away from the shoe shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next up: the second date!


	9. second date gone wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy holidays! here's the second date. it's not exactly great, but at this point i just wanna get it out before christmas eve lol... promise i'll write better next time tho.
> 
> warning: it ends horribly.

“Ernesto, where are you taking me?” Victoria asked as the mariachi kept dragging her past the plaza, to only god knew where.

 

“You’ll see,” Ernesto replied as they continued walking down the road, until they reached a large diner that seemed almost completely empty.

 

“Tatiania’s palace of love,” Victoria read the sign at the front doors. She looked to Ernesto. “You’re taking me out on _another date_ ?”

 

He nodded. “Indeed, I am.”

 

“But don’t you remember how our last date went?” she pointed out.

 

“Sí,” he replied. “ _Pero_ I thought that perhaps we could try again, as a means of making up for all of the horrible things last time.” He gestured to the diner. “So, I rented the place from Tatiana just for this night.”

 

Victoria’s eyes widened. She couldn’t believe that he had done all of that, just for her. “You – you didn’t have to, though,” she stammered, shaking her head.

 

“I know, but I wanted to,” he said, his words making her dead heart beat just a little quicker.

 

“No one’s ever done something like _this_ for me before,” she murmured, her markings glowing a bit. “Thank you…”

 

“You’re welcome.” He winked at her. “Anything for an _encantadora dama_.” He took her hand, then led her inside the diner to a small table. Like their last date, he pulled a chair out for her.

 

She rolled her eyes and sat down, while he headed behind the counter, towards the kitchen. A few minutes later, he came back pushing a cart with two plates of huevos rancheros.

 

“Did you cook this or did you get a chef to do it for you?” she questioned him as he placed the plates on the table.

 

“I cooked it myself,” he answered, puffing his chest out in pride. He smirked as he saw the surprised look on her face. Perfect, just the kind of reaction he wanted. He then sat down. “Now, let’s dine, shall we?”

 

She nodded, and together they ate quietly for a while. Soon though, they began to talk.

 

“I know I’ve said this before,” Victoria started, looking up from her plate to him. “But _thank you._  I really do appreciate the kind gesture and all that. This is lovely.” _Even if it’s a date with my abuelito’s murderer,_ she added to herself.

 

Ernesto felt himself swelling with more pride, knowing that he was making some progress in wooing her. “I’m glad you like it.”

 

“ _Me_ _encanta,_ ” Victoria said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips despite her efforts to hide it. It was strange, how he was making her feel these weird emotions – giddy yet conflicted, given his past actions.

 

Noticing the smile that tugged at the woman’s lips, Ernesto decided to try and flirt a little, “I might have been with many women in my life, but none were as _preciosa_ as you.”

 

Victoria’s markings shined brighter. “O-oh… is that so?”

 

“Mhm.” He nodded, then leaned forward. “I’ve wooed at least twenty-seven girls in the past, many who had good looks – some of whom were professional singers and dancers.”

 

“Tw– _twenty seven_?” she stammered, dismayed at the mention of the other women. The last time he had mentioned these women, he left the numbers ambiguous and didn’t even talk about them that much, so she wasn’t bothered – but now, here he was, talking about how beautiful these women were and how accomplished they were in their careers.

 

“Sí, sí – there was this one woman named Angelina,” he began to go on about his past flings. “She was a co-star in one of my films, _Encantada._ She played the lovely _Gisela,_ while I was _Roberto._ Her eyes were as green as emeralds, and she wore these fancy dresses. After filming a scene one day, I took her out to dinner and after that, we…” he trailed off, then coughed a little. “It was only one time though, since she wanted to focus more on her career.” He shrugged. “A month after the film was released, she got married and later on had a child.”

 

He went on about all of the women he’d had affairs with and knocked up in the past. Victoria bit her lip as her heart sank. His words stung worse than a hornet’s sting. He didn’t love her, she realized dismally. She was merely the newest addition to the endless list of women he wooed – she was just another woman who he planned on buttering up before ushering into bed with the intentions of having her make love with him; _his latest toy._

 

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she tried holding them back. _Don’t you dare cry over him,_ she told herself. _He’s not worth your tears or your emotions._

 

“But you – _you_ are very special,” Ernesto continued. “You’re the only woman who’s managed to capture my heart.”

 

“Really?” she asked dryly, blinking away some tears. “What a surprise.”

 

Ernesto was about to make another comment, when he noticed that her eyes were glistening with some tears. “Is something wrong?”

 

“Yes, actually,” she answered, standing up. “Something is wrong. This _entire date_ is wrong. _You_ are what’s wrong.” She pushed her chair back and began to walk away.

 

He blinked a couple of times, his eyes widening at her words. “Wait, _what?_ What do you mean _I’m_ what’s wrong?” He stood up and began to follow her as she stormed out of the diner. “Victoria!”

 

The woman didn’t respond. She just kept on walking, furiously wiping away her tears. _I should’ve known that he was only using me as a means of having some ‘fun.’ He’s no different from all of the other rich, macho men…_

 

“ _Victoria_!” he called out as he ran after her, ignoring the stares of those around them. When he caught up to her, he grabbed her by the wrist. “ _Stop_!” She turned towards him, and he said: “I don’t understand. Why are you so upset?”

 

“You don’t care about me,” she said softly, her eyes hard and narrowed. “I’m just your newest fling – the newest name on the list of women you’ve slept with.”

 

He quickly shook his head. “No, no, _no!_  It’s not like that!” he shot down her accusations. “I _do_ love you. Those other women? They’re nothing compared to–”

 

“Oh, stop it!” she cut him off, getting more frustrated at him with each and every second. “Your attempts at buttering me up aren’t working.”

 

“I’m not trying to butter you up though,” he insisted. “I _really do_ care about you!” An idea then popped into his mind – an idea of showing her that he loved her. He pulled her closer to him, causing her to yelp. “Would I do _this_ if I didn’t love you?”

 

He pressed his lips against hers, ignoring her muffled cries and attempts at pushing him away. Her lips were soft and a little puffy, tasting like plums that were freshly picked from the tree. His hands stroked the area around her waist, until his hands began to wander down. Then suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his cheek as his head spun around in place, forcing their lips apart. He put his hands on the side of his face, making his head stay in place, only to see the enraged look on his angel’s face while she held a shoe in her hand.

 

“Don’t come near me,” Victoria hissed, holding her boot up to where his nose had once been. “Don’t even think about _touching_ me!”

 

“But mi angelita–” he started, only for her to interrupt him.

 

“I’m not your angel and _I will never be your angel_!” she snapped. She turned to leave, but not before quickly adding, “Go back to all of your other _putas._  I’m sure they’ll be more than willing to be your angelitas. _Just stay away from me._ ”

 

With that, she ran back to the shoe shop, leaving him standing there.

 

“Pero… _te amo_ _,_ ” he whispered quietly. He put his hand to his forehead. “Oh, _what have I done_?”

 

* * *

 

In all of her life as a grandmother, Imelda had seen her nieta Victoria cry many times whether it be from an injury, cruel insults, sickness or sadness from dying at a young age. She had seen tears in her nieta's amber eyes so many times, yet when she opened the door, the sight in front of her was a shock.

 

There at the doorway stood Victoria, sobbing and scrubbing at her face. Her cries sounded so harsh, that it almost scared Imelda as she never saw her granddaughter cry like _this_ before.

 

"Victoria," she spoke quietly, reaching out to cup her granddaughter's skull in her hands. "Why are you crying?"

 

"Ernesto," her granddaughter choked out between ragged breaths. "He's only after me so he can bed me, just as he's done will all of those other women. He – he even _kissed_ me to try and win me over."

 

A burning, red hot anger boiled inside of Imelda, but she pushed it aside as she pulled her granddaughter into a hug. "Don't worry, mija," she tried comforting her, patting the younger woman's back. "That _bastardo_ will never hurt you, _nor_ will his fans, reporters or photographers bother you ever again. I'll make _sure_ of it."

 

Victoria could only hope that her grandmother was right and that she wouldn't see Ernesto again, as she wanted _nothing_ to do with him at this point. She just wanted to forget him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i mean, ernesto _did_ have many affairs during his lifetime which could've led to like, 31 illegitimate children. it's not a much stretch, since he's the type of guy that many people in my country would say has a _pene dulce._ that, and i think this type of drama is similar to all those romcoms and telenovelas.  
>  _i think so._ idk


	10. bringing in the backup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how long has it been since i’ve even touched this? way too long. my apologies, but i’m sure you guys understand that it’s hard to juggle a lot of fics at the same time. anyway, i shall now finally get onto an idea that arandomreader suggested - bringing in some major ocs, all of which belong to them, not me.

Ernesto paced back and forth in his room, trying to think of a way to fix things.

 

He hadn’t meant for the date to take such a terrible turn. He didn’t mean to make Victoria think that she was just another addition to his list of women he’d had affairs with - far from it. He was only trying to say that out of all the women he had been with, she was the most special as she was the only one who truly captured his heart - and yet, in the process, he broke hers.

 

 _Tu idiota,_ he scolded himself. _Should’ve kept your mouth shut. Now she doesn’t want anything to do with you…_

 

On one hand, he could try approaching her, but then he’d risk being hit with a boot again by Imelda, or maybe even worse. No, no - he had to think of a different approach into winning Victoria’s affections.

 

Then, an idea struck him.

 

“Betania, bring me the phone!” he yelled out for one of his maids.

 

She came moments later, bringing a telephone set with her. “Here you go, señor!”

 

“Thank you,” he thanked her as he took the telephone set. Once she left, he began to dial the number of the one person who he _knew_ would be able to solve this problem: _Carola Díaz._

 

Carola Díaz was another famous icon in Mexican history, but for different reasons. She was recognized for being the greatest matchmaker in all of Mexico. She could hook up anyone, no matter how alike or how different they were. Once she was in charge of matchmaking, she made sure the matched couple worked. Never was there a time where she failed to match any couple - not once, not ever.

 

Once he had her on his side, Victoria would be his girlfriend - maybe even his future wife, if he got lucky - soon enough. If Carola’s matchmaking could work for all those other folks, then it could _certainly_ work for him.

 

Speaking of Carola…

 

“ _Hola,_ ” he heard her voice on the other end of the line. “This is Carola Díaz speaking. How may I help you?”

 

“Hola, Carola,” he greeted her. “I’m sure you know who I am, yes?”

 

“Ahhh, Señor de la Cruz!” the matchmaker recognized him as his voice was hard to forget, spinning around in her office chair. “What a pleasant surprise this is! Though I have to ask, why have you decided to call me?”

 

“The reason I have called you is because I need your help with something,” Ernesto replied. “As you have probably heard by now, my latest date with my _querida Victoria_ … well, it didn’t go very well.”

 

“Ah, yes, I’ve heard the disheartening news,” Carola murmured, recalling the news and gossip from earlier. “So are you saying that you want me to help you win back her affections?” she tried her best to contain her excitement, but she couldn’t help it - she just _loved_ bringing people together, taking utmost pride in making couples happy. And to bring Mexico’s greatest star together with his true love… the very thought of it made her feel very energetic.

 

“Sí,” he answered, sounding hopeful. “So will you help me?”

 

“Señor de la Cruz, I would be more than happy to help you out,” Carola answered joyfully. “Do not worry. With my help, you’ll have that woman’s heart again!”

 

“Gracias,” he thanked her, filled with relief. “ _Muchas gracias._ ”

  
With that, he hung up and grinned widely. It wouldn’t be too long before Victoria was completely smitten with him and become his _novia._ Together, they’d spend the rest of their years together, and _nothing_ would stand his way.

 

* * *

 

Of course, it wasn’t too long before one of de la Cruz’s servants blurted out to someone that Ernesto had made business with the famous matchmaker. Word spread out through the Land of the Dead, reaching the ears of everyone except the Riveras.

 

It was an uneventful Tuesday when Carola was doing some business on the computer, while her rather deadbeat assistant named Al was operating the welcoming booth. Service was going pretty slow, so not a lot of people were there at  _ Carola’s Negocios del Amor.  _

 

Al saw the next customer step up to the booth, who was a tall man dressed in plain clothes from the early 1900s. “Hola,” he greeted him. “Welcome to Carola’s Negocios del Amor. What do you want?”

 

“I’m not here for myself,” the guy, Antonio, replied in a gruff voice. “From what I heard, the  _ oh so great _ Ernesto de la Cruz has made business with you, am I correct?”

 

“Sí, so what?” Al replied, before his face nearly paled as he mistook him for another Rivera. “Wait… are you one of those Riveras again?”

 

“Actually, no,” Antonio answered brashly. “Compared to them, I have far better standards when it comes to a good status.”

 

“Thank god,” Al sighed in relief. “I was gonna call services if I was gonna get threatened with a shoe–”

 

Antonio pulled out a knife. Before Al could do anything, the armed one pinned the poor scraggly assistant to the wall. Since service was slow, no one noticed the commotion. 

 

“I’m not asking you,” Antonio started. “I’m  _ TELLING _ you to give me the information of who exactly is Ernesto’s date.”

 

“Señor, that is  _ private _ information,” Al wheezed, wincing as the knife’s tip pressed against his neckbone. “I can’t give that to you.”

 

“ _ Idiota, _ I’ll slice an eye off your poor puny skull if you dare not tell!” Antonio hissed. “I can’t have certain information go heard of and found about!”

 

“You’re  _ loco! _ Completely out of your mind!” Al exclaimed.

 

Antonio’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Perhaps, if you can’t tell… Carola Diaz will be the next one to go–”

 

“ _ Alright!  _ It’s Victoria! Victoria Rivera!” Al blurted out, interrupting the taller man’s threat as he wanted his boss to be safe. “Just don’t bring Carola into this!”

 

Antonio’s grip on Al loosened, and he dropped the scraggly man to the ground. “You’re going to stay silent, or else Carola gets it…” He held the knife up threateningly. “ _ Got it? _ ”

 

“Sí…  _ bastardo, _ ” Al whispered.

 

As Antonio left, Al was left alone to wonder what the hell just happened, all while Carola was left unaware of what had occurred while she was working. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaand we finally move on with the story (or at least will, if arandomreader gives me more suggestions)! yaaaaay...
> 
> who is antonio, you might ask? well, you'll find out soon enough. ;)


	11. not an update, sorry folks

hey, it's me: noiren, aka the original author of this fic. 

i'm sorry i haven't updated in so long, but life got in the way once again and so did writer's block, followed by tons of other shit that can be summed up as "a sudden hatred for literally every single one of my old works and special interests changing." oh, and the fact that someone tried to plagiarize this fic, my writing style here  _sucks,_ the storyline went downhill when i halfassed the date all because i didn't know how to fucking write one and uh... having a new otp and my feelings for this ship fading a  _looooot._ like, now it's just a once in a while coping ship i look back on but still, i'm embarrassed this crack ship even got this far bc holy FUCK is half of the shit i wrote for it mediocre.

tl;dr - interests changed, life gets in the way, plagiarism p much turned me away from writing anymore fic for this particular fandom in general (not that i'm not a fan of the film still but You Know... u can thank wattpad users for this lMAO) and so does shame. sorry to all those who genuinely liked this fic and stuff, but i've just got no more inspo for it and i don't even know if it's salvageable. maybe one day, i  _might_ come back and try wrapping it up but idk, that's like a 1/100% chance lol.

HOWEVER, i will list how it would've went down had it continued soooo uhhhh, here it goes (warning: my writing was super bad lmao):

the  _actual_ chapter 11 was gonna be about people gossiping about carola and ernesto having business together, and then carola knocking up on the riveras' door and imelda answering like...

imelda, already rubbing her temples because god knows how many reporters have been harassing her and her family, _especially victoria,_ lately: i swear to fucking god if this is another photographer–

carola (btw major shoutout to arandomreader and shit they’ve been a real homie on this whole ride): i only take photos if necessary, señora. my name is carola diaz, expert matchmaker and called “love angel” by many, etc. etc. basic explanations and shit.

imelda: please don’t tell me that this is about victoria.

carola: this is entirely about victoria (cue imelda going “OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE NOT THIS SHIT AGAIN”). last date was a bit of a buzzkill last time I heard (understatement of the goddamn millennium, carola) but with my expertise, ernesto de la cruz will go from the man madly scorned to the man madly loved!

imelda, already as angry as she’d been with héctor before learning the truth _and_ when she found out she couldn’t cross the damn bridge: we don’t _want_ your business! we have ourselves a bad history with that man (to put things very, _very_ lightly and also bc ernesto wasn’t exposed in this au; a whole can of worms that will be opened in due time) and now we want _nothing_ to do with him!

carola, more blunt than the security guard who attended to héctor at the start: love is love and when i see a crushing superstar in need of my help, i have to deliver.

victoria, walking in to see just what the hell is going on: abuelita, what is this?

carola: PERFECT!!

and then she proceeds to drag victoria away while imelda’s like “HEY! GET BACK HERE WITH MY NIETA, YOU SICÓPATA!”

meanwhile victoria’s like “who are you and where are you taking me?!” to which carola replies, “listen here, victoria rivera. i’m carola diaz, expert matchmaker. i can make anyone hook up, even people who are stoned.” (idk what the fuck the ‘stoned’ part is about but oh well, it was arandomreader's idea not mine)

victoria gets a sense of what carola may be referring to then. “is this about–”

“hola, my angel.”

and we turn to see the devil himself, ernesto.

“i swear,” victoria says, already so done.

“i can see the potential,” says carola, who already ships it.

the next chapter would follow carola trying to get them to talk it out but victoria’s not having any shit while ernesto is desperate for the puss… idk i haven’t fully planned it out.

tbh the whole story’s climax is antonio coming in trying to use victoria as leeway against ernesto bc surprise surprise, he’s his abusive dad who… hates him just bc he didn’t like him at all as a kid and also bc his mother was inferior to his new wife, who is ironically a de la cruz fan.

so antonio tries to threaten vico but then ernesto swoops in, helps save her and shit but then like… the truth gets revealed somehow idk

yadda yadda, drama and shit, lots of bullshit and ernesto’s truth is revealed in the land of the living too but by the time coco dies shit in the land of dead is kinda resolved? he and vico are working on it idk bc she has _some_ feelings there but they ain’t quite at that particular level yet + community service for de la cruz and all his crimes

to sum it up i think this fic was gonna be a trainwreck in the end bc i fucking suck at writing so moral of the story: don’t be like me _ever_ and always outline ur romcoms esp if theyre for this kind of crack ships!

that’s all now bye bye, see y’all on the flip side! peace 🤞

 


End file.
